Zen Buddhism

The topic of Zen — for me — is intertwined with my Testimony. Zen is a Japanese “mystical” religion. It is a fusion of Chinese Taoism and Indian Buddhism, which themselves are mutations of Confucianism and Hinduism, respectively. These religions are totally foreign to the western way of thinking, and that in itself provides a lot of insight into how the eastern cultures interact with us, as our systems of belief are totally foreign to them.

Most westerners are comfortable with a concept of God. Eastern religions started with the idea that there are many gods, not unlike the religions of the American Indians. But what has confused the understanding of these religions is that some systems, like Confucianism, don’t concern themselves so much with gods as with personal development. In these belief systems, the goal isn’t to please a god, it’s too perfect one’s “self.” Again, to confuse things, this doesn’t mean so much as being “perfect” as in holy, but as “one with the universe.” Indeed the goal of Buddhism is to become a bodhisattva, a person who keeps being reincarnated until he reaches Nirvana (perfect harmony), then comes back as something else again to help someone else reach that state. The ultimate goal of Zen, through the influence of Taoism, is to become one with the Nothing. Zen makes no distinction about good and bad. It’s all the same in light of the Nothing.

The problem with Nothing is that it’s not very interesting. And you can only reach it by not trying. Zen practitioners follow a regimen of simple living and meditation. It is through meditation that one receives “enlightenment.” This is the highest level of spiritual accomplishment. Surrounding this practice are lots of other mystic practices in the form of riddles, or “koans” (e.g., What is the sound of one hand clapping? I think this was just a joke…), which are “solved” only by meditation and “letting the answer reveal itself,” and the “art” of calligraphy, which — again — is only perfected by not trying.

There is a book called Zen and the Art of Archery. It is a very small and short book about a westerner that goes to Japan and learns archery from an elderly Zen master. The book is supposed to be true, but that proposition is just part of its usefulness as an instruction manual. In it, the author describes the process of learning to shoot a bow and arrow, which serves as an overarching illustration of how to reach enlightenment. At first, the student isn’t even given an arrow, just a bow. And he doesn’t even release the string. He starts cocking the bow, along with other students that the master has taken on, until one day the master decides he is ready to learn the release. When the day arrives that the master taps him on the shoulder and informs him of his readiness, he is surprised. “He wasn’t trying anymore.” After the release is mastered — again, by not trying to release, but letting it “happen on its own” — the student is allowed to shoot actual arrows. However, he isn’t to aim at the target 30 yards downrange. He is just supposed to fire and “let the arrow find its target.” After months of this, he is finding that he is becoming a good shot.

At one point in the book, he questions the master about all of this process, and the master has him fetch his personal bow and arrow, and, further, blow out all the candles on the darkened target range. He fires into total darkness, and when the candles are relit, the student finds that the master has struck the target not just in the bullseye, but in the direct center of it.

There are many questions I have about all of this. First, if enlightenment is only achieved by not trying, what’s the point of holing up in some mountain and spending your whole life devoted to attaining it? Couldn’t you just stumble on it one day out of the blue? Second, if you can succeed at something like archery by not trying, then what’s the point of spending years practicing? It sounds an awful lot like trying to me. Third, if there’s no distinction between good and bad, why is “success” defined as hitting the center of the target. If there’s no good or bad, why is hitting a target a goal at all? Why is hitting the center better than hitting the outside ring? Why is the highest level of Zen depicted as an old man wandering around town helping anyone in need? That sounds good to me.

One example of this non-distinction of good and bad in the books I was reading was a comparison of the smell of a rose and dung. The book questioned why one should smell good and the other bad. It made the claim that we only categorize the two based on our upbringing. To me at the time, this was a pivotal shaking of the philosophy I was trying to learn. No matter how hard I try, I cannot conceive that you can teach a baby to prefer the smell of dung over the smell of a rose.

So I don’t get it. It’s all a mass of contradictions. It doesn’t make any sense. And the thing is, you can get so wrapped up in not paying attention to the fact that all the details not making sense that you miss the point that whole thing has no point. What’s the point? Truth aside, what does this system of belief about the great beyond have to offer that’s in any way compelling? At least with some false Christian beliefs, you take for granted some things that are really true, like the concept of God and Satan, Heaven and Hell, truth or consequences. And at least in these Christian religions, you have some semblance of hope, of everlasting life, of eternal and final justice.

I have experienced “enlightenment.” I have had the out-of-body experience so many seek. It was brief. As soon as it happened, I got startled and shook myself out of that state. It was mysterious and enticing. It wasn’t until I read about Zen that I realized what had happened and how great of an “accomplishment” it was. True to form, I had not tried. I had no idea it was even “out there.” So it was that I was very interested in pursuing this experience. Then I realized that by pursuing it, I couldn’t achieve it, and that’s when things got confusing.

Zen is a seductive thing, gaining something from not trying. But once it’s achieved, what you have is a spiritual experience. Literally. Looking back on it from this side of the divide, I now know that Zen and its associated religions are some of the most powerful tools of the enemy of your soul: Satan. (I know it sounds cliche’ to use that name, and somehow — even in my mind — it cheapens my discussion and makes me sound like a lunatic. But that just goes to demonstrate how far the devil has come in making himself seem insignificant when, in fact, he is a powerful and terrible adversary. If I’m going to believe in God, the same book which gives me grounds for that belief also describes, in detail, the one that goes around trying to subvert His will in our lives.) Having an “enlightenment” experience is a trick of the devil. It is but a spirit playing with your soul under the guise of attaining some great thing.

2 Corinthians 2:11, “Lest Satan should get an advantage of us: for we are not ignorant of his devices.”

And that pretty much sums it up. Don’t be deceived by mysticism. Any spiritual involvement other than the Holy Ghost is from the devil, plain and simple. Zen is but one of the tools of your adversary. There are many, many others, some of which even get grouped under Christianity. Those are his most subtle of all.